


. . . To The Very End

by lucifersfavoritechild



Series: Ironstrange Cinematic Universe [12]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ?????, A tragedy in three parts, Afterlife, Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Reunions, Sad with a Happy Ending, Tragedy, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-12-01 22:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersfavoritechild/pseuds/lucifersfavoritechild
Summary: Tony dies of old age, and Stephen must go on.





	. . . To The Very End

I. 

He spent a long time deciding where to scatter Tony’s ashes.

He debated keeping them for a long time, in Kamar-Taj or the Sanctum. But that seemed terribly morbid, and besides, he did not think Tony would like it. In his final months, Tony had said that the decision was up to Stephen. He didn't want to be the one who chose, but Tony had granted him this final burden, and he would not disappoint.

The Malibu cliff where Tony’s mansion once stood seemed a nice choice, but not the most appropriate. He considered the Stark (_Avengers_) Tower, but it had long ceased to have much meaning to them. He might have scattered them under a tree at one of the parks in Greenwich Village where the New York Sanctum stood, but something about that thought bit at him. Even Afghanistan seemed like it might do — in a sense, it was the place where Tony was reborn — but he did not want to think of Tony’s ashes lost in the sand.

He lay in bed as he thought of it, one hand resting on Tony’s side of the bed, scarred fingers moving over the fabric with no input from him. Every night he spent hours thinking of Tony’s last days, of his own desperation and dawning horror as he realized there was nothing he could do to prevent age from taking him. 

He slept, and he dreamed.

* * *

_Stephen’s hand folded over Tony’s red-and-gold one, tracing patterns on the shiny metal. By then the arm had undergone dozens of changes, upgrades, and updates, but this one had been the same for nearly three years. Stephen ignored what that meant._

_ “Are you gonna be okay without me?” _

_ Tony’s hair had long turned to silver, but a myriad of treatments and spells had allowed him to live far longer than his heart would have and age better than most. His eyes were the same bright and tired and kind brown that Stephen had known for sixty years. _

_ He turned away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” _

_ Tony rolled his eyes. “And I’m still twenty-two. Come on, Doc. You know.” _

_ There were days when Tony did not leave their bedroom. Oh, he tried to stay involved, to give advice to the new generations of heroes and work on machines and inventions, but it came hard to him now, and on his bad days Stephen did not allow even that much. _

_ “I don’t want to be without you,” Stephen whispered, looking down at his hands. They were scarred, but did not shake as badly as they once had, and they were unaffected by the ravages of time. They would remain so for far too long. _

_ “I know.” If Stephen had his way, he would be laid to rest beside Tony as soon as Death came for him. _

_ But he was the Sorcerer Supreme, and his duties surpassed his desires. _

_ He forced a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle anything.” _

_ Tony chuckled, and they both ignored how it turned into a couch. “You act like you can. But let’s face it, you’re gonna miss having this ass on tap.” _

_ Stephen laughed and pretended to ignore the dark weight growing in his chest._

* * *

Stephen woke five days later and wondered why he was crying.

* * *

When the day came, there were memorials and services across the galaxy, but less than a dozen people attended his funeral. 

It was Stephen’s decision to make it a private affair. By that point, not everyone who should have been there was. Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy were already buried, as were two of the children they’d taken in, and more than one was too weak and tired to make the trip. But they would know, and it would be enough. 

Morgan and Peter stood behind him, but Stephen looked at no one as he spoke. When it was over and he had managed to keep his voice from breaking, when people tried to talk to him and give their condolences, he retreated upstairs. He tried to control himself, to gather his strength so he could face them. Instead, he slid down a wall and buried his face in his knees, sobbing.

* * *

For more than a year, Tony’s ashes rested in an urn in their room. They sat on the nightstand on Tony’s side of the bed. Sometimes he stared at them when he woke. But it would not be right to keep him restrained there.

And therein lay his answer.

Stephen woke with the sun and wore the blue robes that he had changes years ago before picking up the urn. He closed his eyes and felt the universe shift around him. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a cluster of stars, far from Earth and the Milky Way. _ Our Earth did not deserve you, and I could not hold you there. But it was yours, and you protected it with your life. _ The urn’s weight shifted, and half of Tony’s ashes fell to the Earth far away, from New York to California to Afganistan and everywhere else. _ You have always belonged to the stars. You have always been more. _The rest of the ashes moved across the stars and skies, and Stephen hoped he made the right choice.

* * *

II. 

A hundred years passed, then two, then five, then a thousand. He watched humans rise and fall and rise again and guarded Kamar-Taj and the Sanctums as was his sacred duty, though in time he decided to leave New York permanently. Too many memories, too many ghosts. 

_(Buy they did not keep him from raising a statue of the famed Iron Man in the courtyard.)_

For a while, he tried to keep up with their descendants, the children and grand-children of their adopted family. But even that brought him pain, and he stopped after two hundred years, though he kept a tapestry that recorded their family tree and darkened their names when someone died. More than one of his “children” made their way to Kamar-Taj. Those he watched over more closely than the others, though he would not admit it. 

But he knew that none of this would last. Nothing ever did. 

The day came when he could not change the future, and he did not run from his fate. He looked to the woman who would be his replacement. She wasn't ready, but no one ever was. When he spoke, his voice was hardly a whisper, yet she heard him perfectly. "When I'm done, you must spread my ashes amongst my husband's."

She stared at him. “I don’t . . . I don’t know where they are.”

No one else did. “You will.”

He stepped forward and smiled when he died.

* * *

III.

Stephen opened his eyes.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. This was the second.

His hands had the same scars that had been there for over a thousand years, but they didn't shake. He tenderly touched his face, feeling the smooth, shaved skin. The tux he wore seemed plain even to him until he remembered when he wore it. The watch on his wrist was one he knew well, kept in good condition only by magic. Polished gold, black leather, with an engraving only two people knew. His wedding ring hung on a thin chain around his neck.

There was a door across from him.

He already knew what was on the other side. He'd wanted it for so long that he wasn't sure if he was ready, if he'd built it up in his head and now it would feel wrong, but it didn't matter. He ran and slammed the door open without thinking he might be wrong.

He wasn't.

Tony Stark-Strange stood on a balcony overlooking the universe. His hair was dark and thick, his skin smooth and free of the scars and winkled that life had inflicted on him — a far cry from the tired old man he'd been by the end of his life. He didn't move, but Stephen knew he heard him when he saw Tony's hand wrap around the balcony's railing, his wedding ring glinting in the starlight. Like Stephen, he was wearing the same suit as the night they met. 

Stephen walked forward slowly, standing beside his long-lost love. A smile tugged at Tony's lips.

Stephen resisted the urge to grin and burst into tears. "Bored?" His voice was thick and full of emotion. He was surprised he could even get the words out.

Tony was trying not to laugh. "A bit."

"My bad. I shouldn't have kept you waiting."

Tony couldn't help it. He laughed. "Well, you certainly took your time."

"I know," Stephen said quietly. "I'm sorry "

Tony turned to face him fully, reaching a hand out to cup his face. "Don't apologize for that. Never that."

Stephen nuzzled into Tony's hand, holding his wrist. Tears wet his cheeks. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

Tony leaned into him. "I think I might." 

When he kissed his husband, Stephen knew he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> I should explain myself
> 
> I was having a hard time working on Paint It Black, but I had this other, much more depressing idea that I've been kicking around for a month or so now, and I thought I'd go ahead and get it out. This is technically the end of the From the Top series, but there WILL be fics in between this one and From the Top, including a Spider-Man: Homecoming fic that I plan on working on after Paint It Black is done. 
> 
> So ... yeah


End file.
